


Shoulda, Coulda Kissed

by Chyme



Category: Ben 10 Series
Genre: First Kiss, Interspecies Romance, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-11 07:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5619037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chyme/pseuds/Chyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things, once said, could never be taken back. Not even earth expressions.</p><p>Or basically, the night (and day) in Rook Blonko’s life where Ben Tennyson muttered the fateful words: ‘I could kiss you for this.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoulda, Coulda Kissed

Things got said, when adrenaline coursed through your veins, things you never thought you’d get to say. And all you could do, once the words spilt forth, was wait. Rook was familiar with the sensation, familiar enough to know that it was not always the exhilaration born from escaping both death and destruction that made someone careless with their mouth. He did, after all, have to contend with Ben’s.

‘Dude!’

Currently though, Rook was more than happy to see Ben’s mouth stretched wide with glee, even if he had snatched the tickets from his hand in a rather rude manner. He smiled, shook his head, and took a moment to watch as his partner’s face was set aglow under the golden wash of light that poured out of a nearby shorefront. It always seemed to Rook, to be a pointless waste of electricity, given that it was both night and there was nobody inside to inspect the mannequins and the floppy hats that hid half their faces from view - but then again, since his night vision was only slightly better than Ben’s, he had to admit that at this moment he was grateful for the additional light.

‘Dude!’ Ben repeated, rustling the tickets in his hand for extra emphasis. ‘You actually got some! How did – when did you- I mean, I queued up for hours, and I didn’t manage to get any! Me! The great Ben Tennyson!’

Rook’s lips quirked with amusement. ‘Yes,’ he said gravely, ‘truly, it is a mystery. An earth establishment that bows to the law of ‘the first that attends, is always served?’ Yes, I can see why you would be confused by the concept.’

But Ben was in too good of a mood to narrow his eyes and try to correct his phrasing. Instead Ben‘s hands were excitedly shoving the tickets apart, their corners spreading in the wind as though in copy of the rippled stretch the frame of a fan often held. And yet, Rook found himself tilting his head to the side, unable to find an increase in beauty or anything else that warranted the dizzying spread of Ben’s grin.

‘Ben,’ he said cautiously, feeling a sudden and probably irrational impulse to start scanning for any mind-control devices or hypnotic waves in the area. ‘You are aware that you are not holding gold in your hands, yes?’

Ben spun round to face him slowly, a small level of self-awareness returning to his eyes. ‘C’mon man,’ he said, ‘I’ve seen that awed-out look of bliss on your face when you swallow Amber Ogia. You know what it’s like to get crazy-happy about something.’

They passed in front of a small pet store, the almost white indoor light throwing itself across the paving stones their feet landed on, as it seemingly bypassed the yellow and orange lights echoed throughout the glass panels of the neighbouring stores. Perhaps that was why Ben’s eyes were drawn down to the tickets again, an easy smile returning to his mouth as the light pasted over the block-like cut of their inky letters with a waxy shimmer, as though to serve in place of lamination.

‘Dude,’ said Ben, his voice low with awe, ‘seriously though. I could kiss you for this.’

Silence did not fall, not exactly. But then Ben must have registered the fact that the only sounds he could hear were the thuds of his sneakers meeting the pavement and awareness quickly followed on from that, because a sputter rose up from his throat, only to abruptly die on his tongue as he spun round and was silenced by the look on Rook’s face.

‘Could,’ said the Revonnahgander quietly, ‘but will not.’

‘Well,’ said Ben awkwardly, ‘no. I mean, it’s just-‘

‘-an earth expression, yes, that is abundantly obvious,’ Rook finished for him, his voice suddenly very, very cold.

‘I...I...look, come on dude, I...’ Ben was fumbling, he could see it, which meant that something inside Rook quickly broke and took pity on him, like always. So he sighed.

‘I know,’ he finally said, marvelling at how tired his voice sounded. ‘You did not mean it.’

And then he walked past Ben, his partner’s shoulder for once failing to brush against his side. He knew, after all, that Ben did not mean to say it. Though he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of emotion prompted the sentiment to escape in the first place.

\--------------------------

Things were awkward the next day, even without the brush of snow along the terraces or the ice sweeping across the road. Rook drove carefully, a muttered curse wavering on his tongue as he glared out through his windows into a world spun into silver. The snow glistened back at him innocently, launching a thousand needle-bright gleams into his eyes which he averted quickly for fear of blinding himself. Thank Brallada, he thought, that the skies of Revonnah never saw fit to scatter the pieces of tiny molecular-level mirrors along the ground.

Meanwhile, Ben fidgeted in the seat beside him, his fingers running over the trim black of his seatbelt instead of the countless buttons that littered the dashboard in front of him. And while Rook felt grateful, he couldn’t help but feel like this was wrong. Wrong, because Ben was not chatting about Sumo Slammers or the new flavour of smoothie he was most anxious to try. Or even trying to urge Rook into making a bet with him, on who the next criminal to escape from jail would be. And there were only so many glances Rook could make, from the corner of his eye, before he eventually cracked.

‘This is what is known as an awkward silence, yes?’

Ben smiled suddenly, and Rook almost forgot to switch gears at the sight. ‘Yeah, dude. You get a gold star for that one. Congrats.’

‘A gold star?’

‘Yeah.’ Ben’s smile became a little bitter. ‘Not that I’d know much about it. I was never the kind of pupil the teachers would give one to.’

Rook almost slammed the truck to a halt.

‘Ben,’ he said quickly, urgency staining his tone instead of the pity that swelled up inside him. ‘Didn’t you teachers ever tell you that stars are not comprised of gold? Because if so, that was most deceptive of them. What else did they ‘teach you?’ That the rings of Saturn are made of silver?’ He shook his head with a laugh. ‘Because this...this explains so much! I always assumed that your lack of knowledge was the fault of your short attention span and the way you lack concentration on the subjects you find uninteresting. But instead it might simply be the fault of your schooling!’

Ben swivelled his head round, alarm quickly crossing his face.

‘Rook, buddy, slow down! My teachers never lied about anything. A gold star is like a reward for homework and stuff. It’s basically a sticker, a _gold_ sticker, in the shape of a star.’

‘...You mean that five-pointed symbol that bears no resemblance to a real star in any way, shape or form?’

‘That’s the one.’

Rook sighed. ‘Revonnah may play host to many traditions, it is true. But the everyday rituals of earthlings are by far the more strange.’

‘I don’t see how rewarding a kid for a job well done, is ‘strange’ actually,’ muttered Ben as his gaze skittered past the glass sleeked corners that marked out the more commercial part of Bellwood.

Rook shifted. ‘Ben,’ he said, ‘I fear we are about to fall back into the awkward silence again.’

Frustration burst across Ben’s face at this, furrowing his brow into the familiar set of wrinkles Rook liked to see spring up there whenever he stumbled across a clumsy phrase or managed to make a cutting remark. Which was remarkably often; Ben was incredibly easy to tease sometimes.

‘There’s a reason for that, Rook! Jeez! You always want to talk everything through, and rake up things that might, just might, you know, be better off undisturbed! Talking about things, doesn’t always make them better.’

‘And yet, I fail to see how not talking about them will not make them worse,’ Rook said dryly.

‘Argh! Why are you so, so-’

‘Sensible?’

‘ _Yeeeah_. Not the word I was going for.’

‘Well, perhaps you should have been. ’ Rook stared straight ahead, as his anger made him clench the wheel a little tighter. ‘I am tired of us ‘dancing around each other’, as I believe it is called. Though, how this bears any relation to a waltz, or any other form of dance move requiring a couple, I have no idea. Neither of us is working in tandem with the other, after all.’

Ben promptly bashed his head against the window, a little too theatrically for Rook’s tastes.

He frowned. ‘Are you trying to give yourself a concussion to get out the conversation? I should warn you I have no qualms driving you to the hospital if that is the case. And I will let you explain to the kind medical professionals there how your injury was self-inflected.’

Ben moaned. ‘You’re evil, man.’

‘No,’ said Rook smugly. ‘Just sensible.’

Ben shook his head. ‘Look, you have got to let this go. I mean you’ve been on earth long enough to know that expressions aren’t meant to be taken literally. I mean, when I said I could, you know...’

‘Kiss me,’ Rook finished for him.

‘Right, yeah, that.’ Ben flushed and fiddled with the neckline of his scarf, yanking it as though to let a sudden surge of heat escape. Though, Rook noted, given the red state of his face, it was an explanation no less reasonable than any other. ‘Okay, well, it just meant that I was really happy. I mean the whole expression thing is like, ‘I could but I’m not actually going to.’ It’s not, like, an actual _dare_ or anything.’

‘Talking about kissing anyone should not be a joke,’ said Rook primly. ‘Nor should it be rearranged into a falsehood for the sake of illustrating some sort of happiness. I find the whole thing most misleading.’

Ben looked at him, some sort of despair clouding his face. ‘Dude, look, if it’ll stop you being so lame, I’ll, well, we could, I mean, _kiss_ and then-’

Rook temporarily forgot his brain and slammed the truck to a stop – and it wasn’t even a red light. A chorus of horns immediately rose in the air around them like a prelude to some great symphony before Ben started yelling at him.

‘And then maybe you won’t have to act like a crazy person. Like you’re doing RIGHT NOW!’

But all Rook could focus on is how the other had looked moments before, red with embarrassment instead of anger, hunched over with his eyes set low, away and unable to face Rook’s expression while he spat out those words. _Kiss_. It echoed in Rook’s mind like a taunt and somewhere, beneath the haze, he realised that it must have taken the sort of bravery he didn’t readily understand in order to throw out that small bite of sound. And even though Ben was now close, closer than he’d ever been, Rook couldn’t quite bring himself to move. He might spoil something.

Too bad Ben Tennyson wasn’t having it. He had already thrown himself across the seat between them, undoing his seatbelt with one furious thrust of his hand before tugging at the wheel still ensnared in Rook’s rigid grasp with the other. Within seconds, he had slammed his foot down over Rook’s across the accelerator, ignoring the pained yelp because he was still moving, swinging himself half into Rook’s lap as his other leg kicked over to clumsily pry Rook’s pain-free foot from the brake with a reckless nudge.

‘MOVE!’ he yelled and something must have broken through, because Rook gave him a slightly wild-eyed look and then spun the wheel, leaving the horns blaring far behind them as they rapidly became lost in a wild spurt of speed.

\--------------------------

Five minutes later, they were nestled inside a little spot next to a street full of bungalows, with a nice blue minivan parked just in front. Ben was still sprawled halfway across Rook’s legs, and with a groan, started to push himself away, ready to brace himself against the handy Revonnahgander chest nearby. But then an arm snaked round his side, accompanied mid-way by the weight of a hand nudging down at his hip, abruptly swinging him upright and around to face Rook.

‘You said we could kiss.’

Ben blinked.

‘Really,’ he said flatly. ‘You almost get us killed and you want to get to ‘that’ now. Wow, it’s like that whole mess with that Vreedle Triangle girl again.’

Rook frowned, feeling peevish despite himself. ‘It is nothing at all like that,’ he said stiffly. ‘I just do not wish to give you enough time to freak out over what you agreed to do.’

Ben’s eyebrow rose.

‘Whatever happened to gentleman Blonko, the one my parents are so fond of?’

Rook felt a smile tweak his lips. ‘You said my name,’ he said softly, feeling something both proud and a little giddy stir the breath within the air. It was like he was sipping in gold instead of oxygen.

Ben sputtered and Rook felt happiness punch the side of his chest, hard enough for him to make his grip around Ben’s waist firmer as he dragged him forwards. He was still a little afraid that Ben would freak out and shove him away, but the moment their eyes met he found the fear fading, gentling into a quiet belief that everything would be alright. Because Ben was still studying him, yes, with wary eyes, but there was also that familiar spark of challenge in them, and lower down, his mouth rose into a sideways sweep of a line that spoke of relief. And then, he leant forwards.

‘Dude,’ he whispered slyly, his breath puffing out beside Rook’s ears in silvery chunks, as the chill easily transformed them into little ghosts. ‘I could totally kiss you right now.’

And Rook smothered his laugh into the side of Ben’s neck, gleefully tightening his hold on his partner as he felt Ben struggle in protest.

‘No,’ he said firmly, pulling back a little to read the annoyance on Ben’s face. ‘No, not could. Can.’

And so he did.

\--------------------------

Things got felt, when the breath of another person played with your tongue, things that wrecked havoc with your brain. And all you could do, once you felt that warm tickle behind your teeth, was engage.

After all, Ben wasn’t the only one who liked a challenge. And Rook, for his part, had never been one to turn away from a bit of hard work.

Ben’s tongue, meanwhile, was trying to chip away at the air in his mouth, the body beneath the motion pushing up and stretching like a cat into his space. Chest against chest and almost to his neck, Rook let Ben’s weight smother him, hands smaller than his own wedged into his shoulders, as the fingers curled as though they could draw blood. If he could, he would have smiled. Instead he trailed his own hands along Ben’s arm, feeling the heat and jump of sparks as they shifted to his fingertips upon making contact with an uncovered human wrist. Ben moaned, wriggled, breathed again and suddenly the sparks were in his mouth, dancing along the run of his tongue and echoing back into the hollow of his throat. He could have built bridges with them, made constellations out of the points where he and Ben touched, knee against shin, arm around waist, tongue touching tongue in a trailing mix of fire.

As it was, he was being distracted by the faint scent of toast and marmalade as it drifted into his pallet and the small clink of teeth as Ben shifted his head to the side and tried to scrap his tongue over and around one of his molars. Adventurous of him, and thankfully, not reckless enough for Rook to pull away – it would have been, as they say on earth, a ‘different story’ if Ben had felt the need to go wrapping his tongue round a canine, for example.

But then, with a wet pop, Ben yanked his head back.

‘Rook,’ he gasped, and the alien in question took a moment to admire the way the other’s eyes were blown wide open, right into a startled green that reminded him of electricity or plasma, the sort that sailed into neon lights and rode their depths. I did that, he thought proudly.

‘Rook!’

Rook smiled and brushed a curious finger against the moist tuck of Ben’s lip, salvia catching on the end. ‘Yes?’

‘What time does the Sumo-Slammer-on-ice convention start?’

Rook blinked. And then blinked again. ‘Five-fifteen,’ he said slowly. ‘Ben. Please tell me that you were not thinking about Sumos while you were kissing me.’

Ben shook his head frantically. ‘No, no! It just...kinda popped into my head, that’s all! It’s probably because you got me those tickets yesterday, so it’s still buzzing around my brain.’

Rook granted him a long, hard look, then leaned back into his seat with a groan. He should have known. Even kissing wasn’t enough to stop Ben’s mouth. Because if Ben wanted to say something (and even when he didn’t), it was going to get said. Even if there was no adrenalin racing beneath there to spike the sentences and thrust them into life.

‘You’re still coming with me, right?’

Rook looked down into Ben’s eager eyes, and the way he was still too caught up in his own excitement to realise how suggestively he was still sprawled against his partner.

‘Of course,’ he managed. ’It would be a waste of my own money, if I did not.’

Ben’s grin widened. ‘That’s the spirit!’

Then he looked down, to see all the ways in which the creases in his clothes smashed into the smooth sheen of Rook’s Proto-Tech Armor. ‘Wow, maybe we’d better take it down a notch.’

And while Rook had no idea what unit of measurement Ben was referring to, it made him nervous enough to ask a question. ‘Why? Was kissing me that dreadful?’

Ben looked up sharply. ‘No.’ He swallowed. ‘I mean, not bad enough that I have to refer to it with an earth expression and not, well, _do it_. But...you’re not grossed out?’

‘No,’ said Rook, ‘I am far from grossed out. Believe me. ’

And then he stole another kiss. Instantly Ben melted against him, a small surprised noise escaping his mouth, one that Rook eagerly chased down with his tongue. It made for a change of pace; Rook might not be able to stop Ben’s words with this new method, but he could probably fill in some of the silences. Maybe even create a few of his own. It would all require a bit of experimentation.

After all, as much as Ben’s careless mouth made for some awkward moments, he had now discovered a rather fun way to occupy it. And Ben, he was sure, would have no complaints. Well. Maybe not that many. And hopefully, after a bit of practise, none at all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am still not entirly sure how to spell the name of the god, or curse, Rook uses a total of two times in the series, braellda, or whatever. My ears are not the most trustworthy, so if anyone has stumbled upon the correct spelling by chance, please let me know so that I can correct it.
> 
> Edit: Thanks to someone's suggestion over on Fanfiction.net, I have amended the spelling to Brallada, since they helpfully pointed out the fact that it makes sense for the word to be a combination of both of his parents' name.


End file.
